


Let It Burn

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Paint The Sky With Stars [24]
Category: Night World - Fandom, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Witches, Crossover, Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7138103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the horoscope comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard, Element: Air. This element symbolizes evolution and innovation and is considered to rule over the clever and open minded individuals connected to the June 14 zodiac. Air also gets new meanings in association with fire, making things heat up, vaporizing water while earth seems to smother it."</p><p>John Sheppard's mind is skies and air. And Evan, a Leo, has some fire in him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Burn

“I cannot,” Teyla said. “I have tried many times, but it is beyond my capabilities.” She deposited a sullen Rodney at John’s doorstep and walked away.  
  
John watched her go, then turned to Rodney. “Really?”  
  
“I find meditation terribly difficult,” Rodney said. “All right? And none of Teyla’s metaphors were working for me. Athosian metaphors are totally ruined by the Stargate’s translation system.”  
  
John sighed, beckoned Rodney inside. Rodney sat down on the edge of John’s bed, still sulking. Who else could help? The base psych, maybe. Heightmeyer had been good at meditation, right? John reached for his radio, and then he realized.  
  
Evan. He’d grown up on that shifter commune near Frisco Bay. He’d mentioned embracing a lot of human practices in that respect, like yoga and meditation. His flexibility in bed supported his yoga claims. Maybe he really did know how to meditate. So John radioed for him.  
  
Evan reported to John's quarters promptly. “Sir.” Even though John was pretty sure things were okay between them - Evan had let himself be used as Rodney's emotional support animal during the whole cave-in deal at Michael’s base - Evan was still terribly formal, had never gone back to that point where he’d been broken of formality, and John had given up trying to get him back there.   
  
“What can I do for you?”  
  
“Can you teach Rodney how to meditate?” John didn’t actually know how to meditate because he didn’t have to. Even though he’d been raised a vampire, the way a vampire accessed his vampiric powers - telepathy, thrall - was about the same way a witch accessed her magic, and he could light a candle with a mere thought.  
  
Evan blinked. “Well, I do know how to walk someone through the meditation process, I guess. I’ve led group meditation before.” His gaze turned inward, thoughtful. “You know what might help, though? Going inside your mindspace. Meditation’s all about mindfulness. If Rodney could literally see what was going on in his own mind, he might be able to navigate the process better.”  
  
Why hadn’t John thought of that? After all, his mother had taught him to use his thrall the same way. Telepathy had been like second nature to him and his brother, and the Sheppard house had always been an uncannily quiet one to any human visitors who stayed there till the boys got older and learned better.  
  
“Okay,” John said. “What do we do?”  
  
“Well, get comfortable.” Evan sat down on John’s floor, tugged off his boots, and assumed lotus position.  
  
That didn’t look comfortable for John, but he sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. Rodney sat beside him, and both of them shuffled so they were sitting up against the bed, because neither of them had Evan’s perfect posture.  
  
“Now, do whatever it is you need to do to, uh, link up.”  
  
John reached out and grasped Rodney’s hand, closed his eyes.  
  
“Whose mind should we be in?”  
  
“Your own,” Evan said.  
  
John was generally comfortable in his own mind, although whenever sections of the Great Sky were storming and he didn’t know why, that was unnerving.  
  
“No, keep your eyes open at first,” Evan said, and John opened his eyes. He could keep the Great Sky hovering just below the threshold of vision.  
  
“But you just said -” Rodney said.  
  
“We’ll get there.” Evan’s voice took on the gentle, soothing quality John remembered from when he’d wake up in the throes of a nightmare. “For now, just look, don’t stare. Soft focus, like when you’re thinking more than looking.”  
  
“Okay,” Rodney said.  
  
“Sh,” John whispered.  
  
“Take a few deep breaths. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”  
  
John cycled his breath so it matched Evan’s words. After several breaths, Evan instructed them to close their eyes on the next exhale, and there, John was back in the Great Sky.  
  
Evan walked them through checking in with their bodies, the weight of themselves on the ground, where their hands were connected. Then he walked them through checking in with their surroundings, any sounds or smells. Then he directed them to do a mental full body scan, head to toe, noting sensations but not lingering on them or trying to change them. Huhn. John hadn’t noticed that ache in his left shoulder. But he moved on.

And then Evan told them to focus on their breath, the movement of their chests with each inhale and exhale. John had never noticed, but Evan was right. Each breath was different. Felt a little different. Timed a little different. By the time Evan had them counting their breaths - each inhale and exhale got its own number, up to ten, start again - John felt alive with energy. Humming. Buzzing. But calm.   
  
And for the first time in his life, his skies were unified. Clear. Blue. Faintest wisps of clouds. Stars twinkling in the background. But there were no storms, no winds. The Great Sky was finally a single sky.  
  
It felt wonderful.  
  
Evan reminded them that if they got distracted, it was all right, to gently redirect themselves back to counting their breaths.  
  
John had lost the numbers on his breaths, just started again at one, and the faint storm that was building in the distance dissipated on a gentle breeze, and there was calm once more.  
  
Evan’s voice penetrated the calm, and he told them let go. Of anything. Everything.   
  
The Great Sky became pure blue, no clouds, just stars, each of them a single shining point, diamond-bright. Silver bright. As John rose through the air toward them, he realized each of them was a tiny, delicate strand of the silver cord.  
  
He reached out to touch one, but then Evan was calling him back to his body, to check in with the sounds around him, and how had John stopped hearing the incessant rhythm of the seas of New Lantea?  
  
Evan told them to open their eyes. He’d placed another of Teyla’s candles on the floor in front of them.  
  
John felt great. Energized. Like he could go run five miles without breaking a sweat. He squeezed Rodney’s hand.   
  
“Go on, give it a try.”  
  
Rodney immediately furrowed his brow and looked like he was trying to bench-press something too heavy, one hand stretched toward the candle.  
  
“Relax, remember?” John said softly.  
  
Rodney sighed.   
  
“It doesn’t have to happen on the first try,” Evan said. “You might have to meditate for a few weeks before you really get used to it.”  
  
Rodney wasn’t known for his patience. He stretched his hand toward the candle once more, growling, “Come on!”  
  
Still, nothing happened.  
  
Rodney groaned. “Maybe I should’ve stuck to Teyla’s metaphors about running deer and the wind through the trees.” He eyed John. “Can you even do this?”  
  
“Yes,” John said, and a flame blossomed on the candle wick.  
  
Rodney’s expression turned petulant, and he leaned forward, blew out the candle. Then he eyed Evan. “You have the gene. Why can’t you do this? I mean, you can meditate.”  
  
Evan went pale. “Ah, it’s not that simple, Rodney.”  
  
“You’re cousins with a witch, right? And the ATA gene is basically the magic gene. Ergo, you have magic.”  
  
“Not everyone who’s related to a witch can perforce do magic,” Evan said, and oh dear, he was breaking out the Scrabble winners.  
  
“But you have the gene,” Rodney insisted.  
  
Evan bowed his head. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I thought you’d told him everything, sir.”  
  
“I answer his questions when he asks, but we didn’t sit down and have a massive info-dump session,” John said.  
  
Rodney waved a hand. “Hello, still here. Why don’t shifters have magic? Evan, you said they don’t have magic _anymore_. Did they used to?”  
  
“The old and powerful ones, yes.”  
  
“Where are they now?”  
  
“Buried,” Evan said, which wasn’t the same as dead, not at all, because the dragons couldn’t be killed.  
  
“Ronon’s like you, right? But he doesn’t have the gene. So you should be able to do this.” Rodney pushed the candle toward Evan.  
  
“Rodney,” John said in a low voice, “don’t.”  
  
But then Evan’s eyes blazed silver, and the candle lit.


End file.
